


The Pirate Games

by WallaceAndGromitGirl



Series: The Piratesverse [8]
Category: Pirates! In an Adventure with Scientists! (2012)
Genre: Action/Adventure, Competition, Gen, Humor, Hunger Games Parody, Islands, Maps, Pirates of the Caribbean Parody, Resistance, Revolution, Sailing, Scheming, Suspense, Treasure Hunting, treehouse
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2013-12-16
Updated: 2014-07-27
Packaged: 2018-01-04 19:40:47
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 8
Words: 10,021
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1084947
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/WallaceAndGromitGirl/pseuds/WallaceAndGromitGirl
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Skills will be tested. Tradition will be challenged. Parrots will be trained. Winning means fame and fortune. Losing means certain humiliation. The Pirate Games have begun; step forward and volunteer. Remember who your enemies are (if you can), and may the odds be ever in your...oh, just try not to look like an idiot.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

Ah, spring. A time for joy. A time for rebirth. A time for cutthroat depravity of all levels and forms. The pirates of Blood Island happily practiced such acts on a year-round basis, of course, but spring was the time for it to get especially nasty. You see, this was when the Pirate of the Year was decided.

On this particular spring, the line outside the Barnacle's Face stretched all the way to the other end of the wharf and back again. The little tavern threatened to burst apart at the seams from the number of people inside it. Some were talking and laughing, while others looked for gaps in the line and violently jumped at the chance to slot themselves in a little closer to the sign-up stand. One could almost feel the air hum with the excitement of them all; those who had not come to fill out their last-minute applications had come to hear the Pirate King's announcement.

"It's hardly moving!" Charles exclaimed as he scanned the wharf in a futile attempt to find out where the end of the line was. "Is he even going to get to the front in time?"

Scarf smiled as he watched the Pirate Captain, who was already skipping his way past the row of dark looks into the tavern. "I don't think he'll have a problem with that…"

"Pardon me! Coming through! Out of the way!" the captain said, pushing aside the masses of bodies and snatching a slip of paper from the desk of the stand. "Right, this is all. Carry on." Ignoring the volley of insults hurled at him, he made a beeline for the only empty table with his crew right behind him. "I put the last bit of ink in my beard, didn't I?"

"Right compartment, sir," Scarf answered.

Charles looked miffed. "I've been trying to find that all day…"

"Good man!" the captain exclaimed as he pulled out a quill and inkwell and set the latter down next to the paper. "Now let's see. Blah blah blah, boring stuff, here we go! Booty...roaring...shanties, rousing. Beard, luxuriant, as if they _needed_ to ask." Reaching back into his beard, he pulled out another tiny inkwell full of red dye. He dunked the tip of the quill into it and signed his name at the bottom of the form with a flourish. "Do you think they'll take it for blood?"

"I do!" Albino Pirate chirped.

Scarf cleared his throat quietly. "Sir? Remember what we talked about."

"I wrote it down!" The captain showed them the palm of his right hand. On it, he had drawn a picture of the trophy and of their Jolly Roger, with a **>** sign separating them. "Don't get carried away no matter how many times Bellamy calls Polly a fat parrot."

Scarf let out the breath he had been holding in. "Right."

"I won't need to, anyway," the captain continued. "We've got these, don't we?" He pulled a lump of silver from behind his ear. "The others can clean out all the ships in the Spanish Main, and they still wouldn't have enough treasure to beat us."

They all flinched at the sound of shattering glass from the window behind them. "Did someone talk of plunderin' the Spanish Main?" Pegleg Hastings cackled as he poured a pile of gold coins and gems onto the floor. "Too late!"

Their eyes bugged out at the scene. "How did you even…? Oh, never mind."

"That's not much," the captain remarked. "Besides, you could pick it off the street if you wanted to _oh, dear Neptune's hangnail!"_

The other patrons gasped along with him as a bright, clear crystalline blade shot up from beneath the floor inches from Pegleg's foot. It proceeded to cut a circle around him which then crashed into the basement, carrying him with it. Glass broke, the unfortunate pirate shrieked, and then both rooms fell silent. A few awkward seconds later, Cutlass Liz clambered up through the floor. In her hand was a sword nearly as long as she was. The handle was iron and encrusted with colorful gems, and the blade was a many-sided, meticulously cut diamond.

Liz smirked. "Do you like it?" she said as she swung it around with ease before resting it on her shoulder. "It's three hundred years old and cuts through anything! Only one was ever made, and _here it is!"_

The Pirate Captain raised his eyebrows, but immediately pushed them down again. "You could probably smash that thing with a hammer. Couldn't you, Charles? We still haven't seen Bellamy yet."

No sooner had the words left his mouth than something landed on the roof with a thud. The ceiling rattled once, twice, then collapsed as a shower of gold coins came pouring into the tavern. It completely covered the floor, spilled out onto the street and forced the patrons to jump on the chairs and tables to escape it. Just as the deluge reached their ankles, it sputtered and thinned out until it was no more.

Someone ventured out into the center of the mess, right beneath the hole. "Is it over…?"

A black-clad figure jumped down through the hole and landed on top of the unfortunate pirate. "I know what you're all thinking," Black Bellamy said as he adjusted his tricorn with a smirk. "You can thank me later."

"What, are you trying to smother the competition?" Scarf said.

"Just giving them a little show, that's all. You can have all you want!" he shouted to the patrons, who were quickly getting over their fear. "There's plenty more where this came from. I'll even throw in some grog! How's that sound?"

They cheered, all except for the captain and his crew. "I suppose you might as well," the captain remarked. "You wouldn't win even if you kept it all to yourself."

"Captain, look at your hand…"

Bellamy raised an eyebrow. "You planning to have another go at it, Cap?"

"I'm planning to win. Why, our boat's probably come near to sinking a dozen times, it's so weighed down!" That had sounded better in his head.

_"Sir."_

"What? Confrontation is traditional."

Bellamy calmly approached him. "That's all silver, right? You got it from a mine somewhere."

"Yes, what of it?"

"You know that doesn't really count."

The captain froze. "...What do you mean?"

His crew members slowly closed their eyes. Oh no…

"You've got to steal your treasure, you know. It can't just be handed to you."

"I never said it was…!"

"Hey, I'm just telling you the rules. You don't want to get in trouble with the king again, now do you?" Smiling in his 'all of you are less than I' way, he turned on his heel and walked back towards his adoring crowd.

"I'll ask the king what the rules are, then!" the captain shouted after him. "He'll be here soon enough - "

"Look out!" someone yelled, looking up through the hole. Everyone scattered as a giant pink shell further demolished the ceiling. It hovered a bit before landing gently and opening. Out stepped the Pirate King, in his white, rhinestone-studded regalia. _"HELLO, PIRATES!"_

"Hello, Pirate King," they mumbled, once again shaken.

He frowned. "Where is your enthusiasm? Are you not glad to... _GOOD NEPTUNE, WHAT IS ALL THIS? **BELLAMY!"**_

"Yes, Your Majesty?"

"Is this your doing?" the king snapped.

"It's my entry for Pirate of the Year, Your Majesty."

The king stared at him blankly. A deep rumbling began to emanate from his stomach which worked its way up his throat and burst forth as a hearty laugh.

"What's so funny…?"

"A fat lot of help this treasure will do you, then!"


	2. Chapter 2

A jolt of shock and confusion seemed to shoot through the room, and Bellamy's jaw dropped nearly to the floor. _"What?"_

The Pirate Captain burst out laughing at him, then sucked his breath back in as he found himself in the center of a circle of glares. "Er...sorry."

"Pirate Captain!" the king boomed. _"Approach!"_

With a gentle push from Scarf, the captain staggered to the foot of the shell and fell on his face. "Please don't shoot me or chop my head off or blow out my eardrums, Your Majesty — "

" _Silence!"_ Standing up, the Pirate King stepped on the captain and then to the floor. "You are all aware of the Pirate Captain," he said, gesturing to the man as he got up. "Surely you have not forgotten his actions at the competition two years prior. I certainly have not!"

The captain flinched and covered his face. "Wasn't taking the badge with the googly eyes enough…?"

"And I thank him heartily for it!"

"Please don't, I...excuse me?" He yelped as the king hoisted him to his feet and slapped him on the shoulder.

" _You,_ sir," the king said, "did us all a great service that evening!"

"...I did?"

_"Indeed!_ It was pointed out to me that no potential flaws in our system of judging the contestants had revealed themselves until you weaseled your way into first place." Shoving him back, he turned to address the crowd. "And to prevent such an unfortunate, insidious event from reoccurring, I am pleased to announce a fundamental alteration in the execution of the Pirate of the Year Awards! A mere measure of wealth is no longer an indicator of a pirate's worth! Instead of treasure, we shall have a _tournament!_ All may volunteer, but only a true pirate may win! _The First Annual Pirate Games!"_

Black Bellamy threw people aside as he practically flew across the room and skidded to a stop in front of the king. "I volunteer!"

The Pirate Captain rammed him aside. "I also volunteer!"

"I volunteered first!"

"I volunteered more dramatically!"

"No, you didn't!"

The Pirate King rolled his eyes and left them to bicker. "I'm a finer example than you are!" the captain proclaimed.

"Of what, how _not_ to be a pirate? Because I'll admit, you've got that down."

"It's the spirit of the thing, Bellamy. The crew, the adventures, the fake limbs! Why, half the fun of a treasure hunt is looking for it!"

"And what about _finding_ it? I'd like to see someone else ride in on a whale."

Charles rubbed the back of his neck. "I wouldn't say that if I were you…"

"What's supposed to happen?" Bellamy asked with a laugh.

From far away and deep below them, something began to rumble. It spread across the water and engulfed all of Blood Island in an earthquake. The timbers of the Barnacle's Face rattled uncontrollably, and the piles of gold that the patrons had been amassing tumbled down. Outside, the line screamed and scattered in every direction except the end of the dock. The captain and Bellamy looked in the direction they were all pointing as they rushed out. "What on earth…?"

A large, dark green lump was moving rapidly across the water towards them. They gasped and stumbled as it leapt above the surface and revealed itself to be a giant, angry sea monster. It landed on the dock, slid along the walkway and slammed into the newly-repaired wall of the Barnacle's Face. Boards, stones and people went flying as half of the tavern came crashing down.

The Pirate Captain stared agape. "Come on!" he said, running back towards the scene while trying to pull Bellamy along.

Bellamy stayed rooted where he was for several seconds before following. "That…that's _my_ schtick…"

"Is everyone alright?" the captain shouted as he dug a path through the wreckage, looking for his crew.

Most of them were brushing off plaster, while the Albino Pirate was pulling Mr. Bobo out from the remains of a window. "All accounted for, sir," said Scarf. "No harm done."

_"Who is responsible for this?"_ the Pirate King bellowed as he burst out from beneath a pile of wood. **_"Well?"_**

Everyone backed away from the sea monster as its mouth creaked open. The tongue rolled out like a pink, fleshy carpet. A shadowy figure walked up from the creature's throat and stood in the canopy of its mouth. "Is there a problem?" he asked in a deep, smooth cockney tone.

"In _deed_ there is!" the king shouted at him. "You have invaded my kingdom and obliterated a piece of my property!"

The figure sauntered into the light. He was a tanned, lithe fellow with a fair bit of muscle. His dirty blonde hair was long and tied up in bead-laden braids. The beginnings of a thin mustache had sprouted above his lips, and his teeth were sparkling. He wore a loose white shirt beneath a tight jerkin of black leather and even tighter leather pants. His boots were polished and gleaming, and a black bandana was tied around his head.

He rested a hand on his hip as he smiled at the crowd. "I can see that," he said as he took a small bag from his belt and tossed it to the king. "Terribly sorry. A little pocket change ought to cover it."

Eying the newcomer suspiciously, the king poured the contents of the pouch into his hand. Dozens of tiny diamonds.

"I've seen your face!" a pirate exclaimed as he pointed at the newcomer. "Aren't you James Finch?"

"I'm afraid so."

At this, the crowd gasped excitedly and began to whisper. _The_ James Finch? The one who had burnt down Port Royal and killed Dreadlocks Roberts? Wanted for two hundred thousand sovereigns and a million reales?

Finch strolled amongst them with a grin, letting his hips swing. "I take it you've been expecting a visit from me."

"That we have!" the king said, nodding to him with reverence. "I'd planned to invite you here for the Games!"

"You don't say," he said, unsurprised.

"A test of skill and cleverness! The winner shall be named Pirate of the Year!"

"Sign me up, then. Someone's got to win, I suppose. Am I right?" he said to the crowd, who cheered wildly. "I don't suppose I have any competition."

The captain coughed as he and Bellamy raised their hands. "Right over here."

He turned and appeared to look through them for a moment before raising an eyebrow. "I didn't think so."

"And what's that supposed to mean?" Bellamy snapped, getting in his face.

"Is all this gold yours?"

"You bet it is!"

"Overcompensation. Try a little less next time." He turned to the captain. "And cut off that beard, unless you've a fondness for raising vermin."

The captain gaped, as did his crew. "Don't knock the beard!" said Emma.

Finch looked her over, intrigued. "Shall I knock something else instead?"

If Charles and Jenny hadn't pulled her back, the punch she was readying probably would have taken out all his teeth at once. Not that he seemed to mind. "Come now, it's no fun winning if you don't beat anyone! We need some volunteers!"

The crowd surged towards him. "We will! We will!"

"Calm down, let's be orderly. How about we keep this at a reasonable number? We've already got three...nine more will put us at twelve."

"A fine proposition, Mr. Finch!" the king said. "I request nine volunteers!"

Nine pirates fought their way to his feet, Cutlass Liz and Pegleg Hastings among them. "Is this all of you?" he asked, examining them.

"Aye-aye, Your Majesty!"

"Perfect! Then follow me to my palace, all twelve of you! **_ONWARD!"_**

The crowd roared with pleasure and struck up a shanty as the procession headed down the dock, towards the jungle. At the back of the line trudged the captain and Bellamy. Their arms were folded, and their faces were turning red.

"I'll show _him_ who's overcompensating…"

"He hasn't even _got_ a beard…"

For a moment, they thought the same thing; _I've got to do something about him._


	3. Chapter 3

As the twelve contestants stepped through the front door of the Pirate King's palace, a pair of guards stepped behind them to block it. Only the captain seemed to take note. "Um, Your Majesty? That...that is just a precaution, isn't it?"

"Of sorts. Can't have you lot backing out at the last moment, can we?"

"...Oh."

The king led them up to the second floor and into a narrow hallway with six doors on each side. "Take your pick and come to the dining room in half an hour," he told them before lumbering off.

The Pirate Captain was thrown against the wall as the rest of the contestants stampeded past him. In a matter of seconds, eleven of the rooms were occupied. Only an ugly brown door with water stains and a split in the wood was left. The hinges squealed as he opened it and stepped into what had probably been an abandoned closet that morning. The room was but a few feet wide and just long enough to slot in a tiny bed. Above the foot of it hung a cuckoo clock, and that was that in the matter of furnishings.

Lying down on the lumpy mattress and wincing at the creak of the frame, the captain tried to pretend that getting comfortable was possible. Rocking back and forth as though he was in a hammock did nothing. The ticking of the clock rang in his eardrums, and when he tried to put the pillow over his head, he found it nailed down. "Who _does_ that…?"

The half hour crawled by at a speed that made frozen molasses seem like a bolt of lightning. By the time he heard the clock chiming and his companions rushing down the hall, he was nursing a headache. He stumbled out of bed and brought up the rear, rubbing his temples and plotting a daring escape.

A pair of servants pointed them towards the dining room, where the king was sitting at the head of a long table piled with food. There was a spot laid out for each of them, and a whole fish was sitting on each plate. The captain thought he saw his blink at him and timidly grabbed a roll instead.

"Tell me," the king shouted as they dug in, "what do you know of the islands surrounding ours?"

Bellamy waved a hand to get his attention. "Well, there's - "

"An archipelago north of here," Finch finished. "Six islands in a horizontally aligned cluster. Uninhabited. Large parrot population."

"Very good, Mr. Finch! We've been training those, actually. You'll need to send messages back." Picking up a bell, the king rang it loudly. More servants entered, pulling a board with a large map nailed to it. One of the islands was a jagged oval much larger than its companions, which lay to the west and trailed behind it like confused ducklings. "This, you see, is where you will be going! You will each have your own version of this map in the boats prepared for you."

Reaching under the table, the king pulled up a wide mahogany box. He flipped open the gold lock, lifted the lid and showed them a row of twelve corked bottles. " _Well?_ Aren't you coves going to ask what these are?"

Crossbones Nelson, a fellow of skin and bones and little else, raised his hand. "Special rum?"

" _Absolutely not!_ It's even better!" He took one of the bottles and held it into the light. Inside was a

rolled-up piece of paper. " _Behold!_ A map leading to glorious treasure, cut into twelve parts. You each get one. When you get to the islands, you're to hunt one another down until someone gets all of them. That someone finds the treasure, brings it to me and is named Pirate of the Year!"

The contestants jumped up and surged forward as one, grasping at the bottle. "Not so fast!" the king shouted, pushing them away. "I said when you get to the islands! You've still a week."

"A week of what?"

"Your training!"

* * *

The next morning, they were shown into the cellar - at least, it had been a cellar. Now it was a veritable gymnasium and then some. On one end were balance beams and fake trees, complete with paper leaves. In the center, carts full of cutlasses and other swords surrounded a roped-off arena. Another set of ropes created a shooting range, with targets at one side and stands of pistols at the other. Squeezed into a corner were a few bookshelves and tables.

Most of the pirates immediately went for the weapons. "Good, good!" the king laughed as they sparred and shot. "Surprise combat, _that's_ the pirate method! You are not to kill or maim, however! We must show honor towards our fellows!"

Dodging a pistol that Liz had rapidly discharged and thrown behind her, the captain inched his way to one of the tables and sat down. A thick old book lay open, and he started to flip through it. There were maps, information about weapons, pictures of plants and animals.

"A shame he doesn't think it worthwhile."

The captain glanced up to see Finch staring down at him. "Yes, quite. It's a wonder what you can find in these things."

"I suppose you wish someone was more lenient towards your type."

"...I'm not sure I follow you."

Finch nodded, turned away and began to amble towards the other end of the room.

What had _that_ been all about? Surely he hadn't meant to propose an alliance of some sort. The boy wasn't daft. _And neither am I, for that matter. He's a devious one. Devious and severely lacking in proper respect for beards._

If the rest of the contestants thought the same, they were more than willing to put it aside. As the week wore on, not an hour went by without one of them approaching Finch with a deal. It was always the same pattern; skip on up while he was resting, flaunt what they had, get shooed off, repeat. After the first day, they began to get more creative. Rum Morgan offered a lifetime's supply of drink. Magpie Eli claimed to know the location of a mermaid's cove. Ugly Mug Nancy wore her lowest cut dress, and even that had no effect.

"It doesn't make any sense!" Bellamy shouted to himself as he paced the hallway one evening. "Who wouldn't want what might be a map to Atlantis?"

The captain took a step towards him. "I would."

"I wasn't talking about _you."_ Scowling, Bellamy disappeared into his room.

"Well...fine! I don't need you, either!" the captain shouted after him. "I'll just do it all by myself! Me against the lot of you...against the..."

_I'm doomed._


	4. Chapter 4

  
_**TONIGHT:**_ _PRESENTATION OF PIRATE GAMES CONTESTANTS!_  


  
_7 O'CLOCK AT THE_ _**ANNE BONNY MEMORIAL THEATER** _  


_ATTENDANCE IS MANDATORY_

  
_BY ORDER OF_ _**THE PIRATE KING** _  


* * *

The red velvet jacket stuck to his arms and shoulder blades. The belt was studded with glass gems and pulled a little too tight. A little red ribbon tied up his beard and turned its luxuriance to gaudiness. His fingers twitched, aching to tear it all off. "I don't know about this, Number Two…"

"Do you want to practice again, sir?" the Pirate With A Scarf asked as he and the others sat down.

Well, it was better than wishing he could punch his reflection. "Very well."

"I'll start!" the Albino Pirate chirped. Clearing his throat, he lowered his voice in imitation of the king. "Now, you lubber, what sort of terrible pirate things have you done lately?" he managed before dissolving into giggles.

"Er...let's see...I've had a few run-ins with Vicky." He flinched as the Pirate With Gout set off an air horn in his face, snickering. "Next question!" his lad said.

"Now, now. They'll give him more time than that," said Jenny.

"But I like this bit!"

The dressing room door opened, and an assistant stuck his head through. "Five minutes!" he said before disappearing.

"I think they've saved a few spots out there," the captain told his crew. "You ought to be going."

They nodded and filed out, casting worried glances over their shoulders. The Pirate With A Scarf was the last to go. "Just be yourself, sir. You'll do fine."

"You think so, Number Two?"

"I'm ninety-nine point nine percent certain of it."

"What are you still doing back here? Out!"

Scarf's protests echoed through the hall as the assistant chased him down it, punctuated by the slaps of broom bristles.

* * *

The crew members pushed their way to a table just as the auditorium lights were dimming. "Ladies and gentlemen," a voice announced, "the Pirate King!"

The curtain rose to reveal his shell, which he burst out of with a roar. " _Hello, pirates!"_

"Hello, Pirate King!" they shouted back, some less enthusiastic than others.

"Settle down!" he commanded, and the din of the audience subsided to a dull hum. "As you know, the twelve contestants of our Pirate Games have spent the last week training without relent! Tomorrow, their challenge begins! All but one of them shall fail miserably, but they shall all be able to say that they tried! And it is my honor and privilege to present them to you this evening! Let us welcome our first guest, Mr. Crossbones Nelson!"

And so it began. The first nine of the lot flounced onstage trying to look intimidating. As the king hurled questions at them, they hurled answers right back. It all began to run together after a while; all the talk seemed to be of plundering and ship sinking and who could shout the loudest. The most interesting thing to happen was Liz sauntering on in a dark red gown to a chorus of wolf whistles and throwing her sword between some poor fellow's legs. "I have no need to pretend that I am fierce. I am so by design."

"Good, very good!" the king said. "And why do you believe that you will win?"

"The men will simply give me their pieces. And the women? They will be too envious to notice me stealing them. Isn't that right?" she said, crossing her legs to thunderous applause.

Bellamy came out next, bowing to the crowd. "Thank you, thank you! You're too kind, really!"

"Sit down!" the king snapped.

"What can I say, folks _love_ me."

"Why don't you tell them what you've been up to as of late, then?"

"Well," Bellamy said as he leaned back, "let's just say the Americans are going to get a nasty surprise the next time they check up on Fort Knox." The crowd oohed with glee.

"That _is_ quite a feat," the Pirate King admitted. "However did you do it? What are your strengths?"

"Oh, too many to list. Next!"

The king rolled his eyes but continued nonetheless. "What makes you think you can win this competition?"

"Because I'm clever," he answered, a sly smile spreading across his face.

"We're almost done, I assure you," the king told the audience as Bellamy departed. "Next, the Pirate Captain."

The auditorium was nearly silent as he crept into view. The only cheers came from his crew. "Come on, Captain! You're going to be brilliant!"

"Er...thank you," he said with a timid wave. He dropped into the chair, trying to avoid the king's evil eye. "Lovely to be here…"

"What are your recent accomplishments?" the king snapped. "Spit it out!"

"I-I've made a fool of Queen Victoria. Then I found a plot to steal some silver and took it myself. Couldn't have done it without my lads."

"No one cares about your crew!"

"But…"

"Now, what can you do well?"

The captain was still in a daze. "I'm good with a cutlass, I suppose."

"And what are you doing here when you could be off someplace where you're wanted?"

"Because...because I want to say that I gave it a go," he answered, standing up. "That's all I want, really."

"Good, because that's all you're going to get!" The king pushed him offstage while the audience cheered. "And now, my subjects, the moment you have been waiting for! The best saved for last! Presenting Mr. James Finch!"

They applauded and looked to the edge of the stage, but there was no Finch. Then they jumped as the auditorium doors swung open. "Pardon me. Coming through. No autographs just yet."

"Finch, what in Neptune's name are you doing?" the king demanded.

Finch ambled through the rows of seats, smiling and nodding to the audience members as he passed. "I'm a man of the people, Your Majesty. Afraid it can't be cured."

The king paused before chuckling. "Good man! We need more like you!"

"I hope there are," he said, taking his seat.

"Tell us of your exploits, Mr. Finch!"

"Besides the obvious, I assume." He pretended to think for a few moments. "I took down a galleon and captured a dozen Spaniards at the Battle of Cazurra."

"You don't say!"

"I remember you being there as well, Your Majesty. Yes, you stayed safe on your boat and watched the carnage."

"...Well, what would we do if I was to be killed?"

"Quite true, quite true."

"Now, your strengths as a pirate, Mr. Finch?"

He turned to the audience, ignoring the king completely. "I make plans. I master all battles and leave my enemies in confusion. I am a leader."

The king was giving him a dark look. "And why do you…"

"I don't _think_ that I will win," Finch said. "I can assure you that I will. _Am I not right?"_

The audience leapt to its feet and began to cheer. "Finch!" they cheered. "Finch! _Finch!_ _ **Finch!"**_

Now the king was glaring outright. The captain, who had been watching from the wings, slipped away.

* * *

"Fine thing for him we weren't sittin' closer," Emma muttered to herself as she stomped down the wharf. "Would have fed him his own teeth, I would…"

Scarf sighed. "Keep up with her," he told the others before heading back towards the theater. The captain was standing on the sidewalk watching as the other contestants met with the crowds before being loaded into their carriages. "You kept your composure very well, sir."

"What I am I doing, Number Two?"

"Er...standing?"

"Tomorrow morning, they're just going to gang up on me the moment we get to those islands. I'm doomed by myself."

"And what makes you think you know that?"

" _Really?"_

Scarf looked down for a second, thinking. "Do you know how they're supposed to be keeping up with you?"

"Parrots. We're to send messages back so they can see who's where and let us check with ours crews. So?"

"Just send us a note whenever you need some advice! That's allowed, isn't it?"

"Everything short of killing someone's allowed."

"Then you've got nothing to worry about! Just keep your focus on the game and let us do the worrying for you."

The captain laughed a bit. "Oh, you lot do enough of that already." He put a hand on the first mate's shoulder. "You're in charge if I don't come back. Understood?"

"You'll be fine, Captain."

"Come along!" an assistant said, pulling the captain away as another carriage pulled up to the curb. "You've a long day ahead."

The captain managed a tip of his hat before being shoved inside. Scarf watched it pull away and didn't move until it had disappeared around a curve. _Understood, sir._

 


	5. Chapter 5

The next day, all of Blood Island was up with the sun. The pirates yawned and shivered in the early morning cold as they filed down the streets and squeezed onto the wharf. The less burly attendees were unceremoniously pushed into the water by others straining to get a better view. In the back of the crowd stood the captain's crew, making a valiant attempt to be as small as possible. Each pair of eyes was turned out to sea.

Just beyond the harbor floated the Pirate King's ship, its hull covered in gilding and gems. New sails with a Jolly Roger sewn in deep blue thread waved in the breeze. On the deck, the twelve contestants poked playful fights with one another and waved back at the wharf. Ten of them did, anyway.

"Beautiful day, innit?" Bellamy said as the slapped the captain on the back, reveling in his discomfort. "Shame you have to spend it here."

The Pirate Captain flinched at the move. "Quite." He looked at Finch, who was standing on the other end of the deck. The man was watching the sea, not the wharf, and his body seemed to tense with hungry impatience. Instinctively, the captain stepped away. He scanned the wharf for his friends, but the mass of jeering faces had swallowed them up. _Normally I'd say don't worry about me, but anyone who'd like to is more than welcome._

A burst of trumpeting broke the sleepiness on the wharf, and the crowd cheered as a golden barge came sailing into view. Flags and banners adorned its sides, and on its deck stood the Pirate King. _**"Hello,**_ _pirates!"_ he roared into a megaphone. "Today, we begin a new tradition! A new _legacy!_ You will look back on this day with pride and say 'I was here when it all began'..."

Twelve sailboats gathered behind the king's ship as he spoke, each manned by a servant. They were short, narrow vessels, enough room for a chest in the stern and little else. The last one in the procession sagged deeper in the water than the others, and it squeaked as it rocked back and forth. "That one's mine, I suppose," the captain said to himself.

The other contestants lined up along the edge of the deck, forcing him to the last spot. Each of the boats pulled up next to the ship, and each of the pirates climbed down a rope ladder to switch places with the servant. Once in control, they steered themselves into a line in front of the ship.

The captain wobbled as he dropped into the boat. He took a step towards the wheel, and his boot stuck on a glob of freshly laid tar. "Um…"

"You coming or not?" Bellamy yelled back, already taking his place in the line.

"Yes, yes, just wait a moment!" Picking himself free, he tugged once at the tangled rigging. The sails raised, wobbled and collapsed over his head in a pile of fabric. "Can we hold for a while?" he asked, trying to dig his way out. "I think I've got a technical difficulty...or several…"

One of the Pirate King's servants handed him a gold-plated pistol. _"People of Blood Island!"_ he bellowed as he aimed it at the sky. _ **"Welcome to the First Annual Pirate Games!"**_ He fired a shot, and eleven of the twelve hoisted their sails.

"Wait!" the captain squeaked as he poked his head out. "I'm not ready yet! This isn't very cricket, you know! What's going on? No, don't leave! I...fine, I don't need these sails anyway!" Tossing them overboard, he wrenched a loose bench from its place and began to paddle wildly. His boat drifted forward, pushed and pulled by the bulging waves. "Ha!" he shouted. "You lot won't be rid of me that early! You're lucky you aren't going a bit slower…"

"Hooray for the captain!" Albino Pirate shouted, clapping and jumping for joy. His companions cheered with him, only raising their voices when they noticed the glares from the crowd.

Looking back, Finch raised an eyebrow. _Interesting fellow, this captain._

* * *

The dawn turned to noon, and the noon turned to dusk. Eleven of the boats raced towards their destination, colliding with each other in playful attempts to sink the competition. The twelfth needed no such help.

"I'm...still coming!" the captain declared with what little breath he still had. By this time, it was only to himself. He slapped his makeshift oar against the water's surface with both hands, and his left foot was plugging a split in the hull. "Don't need sails...would be nice, I must admit...extraneous but nice…" A glimpse at the setting sun only made him feel even weaker. His head drooped, and the oar slipped from his hands. _Where's everyone else? And where am I, for that matter?_

Perhaps he could use the stars to find his way when it got dark. Perhaps the islands were invisible and he was nearly upon them. Perhaps he could turn around, go home and forget he'd ever had this silly plan. Perhaps...why were his boots wet?

The split had grown, and water was flowing into the hull. Standing up, the captain was swept overboard just as the whole boat sank out of sight. The chest stayed up, bobbing a few times before starting to float off.

"Oh no you don't!" Kicking against the waves, the captain managed to grab one of the chest's handles and pull himself onto the lid. "I'll have you know, this is _not_ how I intend to die!" he shouted, gripping his perch with white knuckles. "I'd much rather fall off Mount Everest into Mount Vesuvius while punching a zombie! Do you understand?"

The ocean did indeed understand, not that it cared. It picked the chest up and flung it forward, causing the captain to lose his grip. He screamed and flailed as he went flying through the air. "Can you at _least_ let me _not drown?"_

He landed face-first on something firm. Very, very wet, but firm. When he picked himself up, he had a mouthful of sand. _Um...thank you._


	6. Chapter 6

The captain wasn't quite sure which feat was more impressive: landing on the island or somehow not managing to see it until he did. However, the sand forcing its way down his throat constituted a more pressing matter. He pounded his chest as he coughed, flinging it back onto the ground with a pinch of stomach acid in tow. After brushing off his tongue, he finally staggered to his feet and dared to look around.

A few more feet to the left, and he would have been dashed to pieces on a sharp rock jutting from the sand. Dozens of them were scattered up and down the yellowish-brown beach. The sand traveled ahead of him several more yards before turning to black dirt. A thick wall of jungle put a stop to it altogether.

Something wet touched the captain's thigh, but he was too tired to jump and shriek over it; it was only the chest washed ashore, anyway. Kneeling, he ripped off the rotting lid and peered inside. Only a glass bottle containing a scrap of paper remained, floating in a salty pool sprung from a hole in the wood. Everything else - food, weapons, a chance at getting back home alive - had washed away through the remains of the lid.

Stuffing the bottle in his beard, he pushed the chest back out to sea and watched it sink. _I can't let them know I'm here…_

"Oi! You see that fellow, Nan?" Two women were eying him from the other end of the long beach. "Just washed up. Must be that old cap'n."

Ugly Mug Nancy either laughed or impaled a donkey. "Come 'long, then! Easy pickins!"

Then they blinked, and a set of tracks zipping up the beach into the jungle was all they had left of the captain.

He screamed as he ran, tripping over roots and slamming into trees. Flocks of parrots abandoned their nests in fright, squawking out his position to the whole island. Finally skidding to a stop, he flung himself into the first bush that looked large enough to hold him. "Quiet!" he hissed, slapping his face. " _Honestly,_ man." This was no different than his adventure with the Carnivorous Cassowaries, and that had simply been a matter of shutting up.

Drawing his knees up to his chin, he curled into a ball and waited. Within moments, the sound of exhausted breaths and foliage being crushed came rushing up next to him. "I thought ya said 'e went this way!" Nancy shouted. He could see her boots through the leaves.

"Don't go lookin' at me! I'm not the one who saw 'im in the first place - " She was cut off by a loud, echoing slap. "Why, you little…get back 'ere!" They went barreling away once more, their shrill insults bouncing through the air before fading away.

Bit by bit, the captain unfurled himself from his fetal position and crawled out of the bush. Grabbing a branch, he pulled himself back to his feet, took two shaky steps forward and promptly fainted dead away.

* * *

Feathers were tickling his nose. "Polly...oh, Polly, I've had the most dreadful nightmare…"

"Take me back to dear old Bliiiightyyyy…"

The Pirate Captain's eyes shot up at the screeching voice. A parrot was sitting on his face, and it squawked at him again before flying away. He sat up, massaging his sore neck. _Poseidon's pancreas, how long was I out?_

Most of the day, from the looks of it. A thin crescent moon hung above him in the black sky, surrounded by stars. The trees were becoming swallowed up by shadow, closing around him like a wall. Digging his fingers into the dirt, he pulled himself to his feet. As he grabbed a branch for support, his eyes happened to dart upwards. In the distance, a faint trail of smoke was wafting up from a flickering orange glow. The parrot was hovering around it, still singing. _Someone had to have taught him that._

The captain lifted a foot and stepped forward. He flinched at the sound of crunching leaves, but nothing more followed. Gulping, he crept towards the source of the light. The plants gently rustled as he pushed his way through them, but it could just as easily have been the wind.

The owner of the deep voice he heard as he approached was not so lucky. "Drop me on the train to London Toooown…"

"Peg-Leg?"

The other pirate was sitting before a crude fire, a stick in one hand and a flask in the other. "Put me anywhere, take me anywhere!" he slurred as he waved the stick about like a conductor's baton. "Even if…" He paused, then went cross-eyed and slumped backwards. Part of his coat brushed aside as he fell, revealing a glass bottle tied to his belt. Inside it was a rolled-up scrap of paper.

_You_ _ **must**_ _be joking!_ The Pirate Captain laughed, then clapped a hand over his mouth. Peg-Leg twitched in his stupor and licked his lips, but he did not wake. "Easy there, Peg-Leg," the captain said, walking towards him. "No need to fuss - "

_CRRRCH._

Peg-leg's bloodshot eyes flew open. "Who's there?" he shouted, bolting into a sitting position. The captain, his foot still atop the broken bundle of sticks, could only stare in horror while his mouth hung open.

Peg-Leg looked behind him, then to his right. As he turned to look to his left, he muttered something under his breath. Closing his eyes, he lay down again. A few more minutes, and his breathing was even once more.

The captain still waited five more minutes before even daring to move his fingers. The breath he'd been holding in came out as a wheeze. "Now that won't do at all. Think of the lads." _I am!_ another part of him seemed to answer. _And if you don't mind, I'd like to get back to them as fast as possible._

"And bring your humiliation down on their heads?" The voice seemed to understand, as it slipped off grumbling. Kneeling before Peg-Leg, the captain flexed his fingers and reached for the bottle. The strings tying it to the belt were weak and snapped apart with a light tug. Smiling, the captain began to pull his arm back. "That wasn't so hard…"

Then Peg-Leg yawned and rolled over, pinning the bottle and the captain's hand beneath his girth. _I ought to simply stop talking._

Wiping away the cold sweat dripping down his face, the Pirate Captain tried to push Peg-Leg back. The prone man wouldn't budge. _Very well, we'll do this the interesting way._ He began to inch his hand backwards. Each time it moved, Peg-Leg flinched. The captain's heart was actively trying to crawl up his throat by now, and the clammy sweat on his hand was making it harder to grip the bottle. Still, nearly there…

"Need some help?"

The captain's head shot up. Standing in front of him, hands on his hips and bemusement on his face, was Finch.


	7. Chapter 7

In every good pirate's life, there will come a time where he stands at a crossroads. His fame, his dignity, his very pirateness will be on the line. If he wishes to emerge from this tempestuous moment as a legend, then he must recognize that his pirateness is most certainly worth fighting for.

Or he can do what the Pirate Captain did.

The captain took one look at Finch and practically jumped out of his boots. Whipping around, he ran back into the safety of the carnivore-infested jungle, screaming like a little girl all the way. It didn't take him long to jog headfirst into a tree, and no time at all after that to jog up the tree. Once he found the highest branch there was, he hoisted himself up onto it and curled into a trembling ball.

As the adrenaline slowly drained from his body, the captain unfurled himself and began to pout. "Fool. You could have at least grabbed the bottle while you were at it. What, are you _mad?_ You wouldn't have gotten out of there alive! He knows you're here now. He's probably planning to cut out your liver and eat it. Then at least make a last stand! March up and say 'would you like some beans and a glass of Chianti with that, sir?'"

"I believe I would find a pirate liver thoroughly indigestible. Too much rum going through it." Finch was sitting on the branch below him, staring up with a serene expression. "Don't you think, captain?"

" _Neptune's morning breath!"_ Flinching, the Pirate Captain tumbled off his branch and landed in front of Finch. "H-How on earth did you…?"

The strange, small smile did not leave Finch's face. "Yes?"

"...Look, if you really are going to do something dreadful to me, just up and get it over with."

"Very well, then." Reaching into the pocket of his coat, Finch fished around in its depths for a few moments before resurfacing. "I believe you dropped these back there."

"These?" The captain opened his eyes and uncoiled. He looked from Finch's outstretched hand to his eyes and then back again. "You're joking."

"I swear I'm not."

With trembling fingers and a few uncertain pauses, the captain reached out and took the two glass bottles with their map pieces. "Yours and Peg-Leg's," Finch explained.

"Yes…"

"You still don't trust me."

"And you're surprised?"

"A bit, yes. I just did you a grand favor."

"I've no idea what's going on in your head. You don't seem to trust any of us."

"The others? No, I suppose I don't. We've nothing to offer each other. I doubt they would hold up their end of a bargain anyhow." He paused. "But then there's _you,_ Captain."

" _Me?"_

Finch nodded as though it was the most obvious thing in the world. "I've watched you ever since we got to the palace."

"I'm going to pretend that doesn't sound creepy."

"You've seen how the rest of them were acting! They can't see past the thought of a few moments' glory. Useless. But you're in this for the thrill of it, aren't you?"

"To be perfectly honest, I'd really just like to go home at this point…"

Finch laughed, a light and vaguely mocking sound. "Let me ask you this, captain: what's the best thing about being a pirate?" The captain was silent. "Well, go on!"

Scooting a few more inches away from him, the captain cleared his throat. "We had quite the debate about that, actually.

"And?"

"Well, Number Two says it's about who you are inside. That's got something to do with the adventures, I think. And the crew. And my beard!"

Finch's smile widened. "I see I made a wise choice."

"Concerning what?"

"Concerning the matter of who I intend to form an alliance with."

The captain furrowed his brows. "Er…"

"Will you at least listen to my offer, sir?"

"Yes, of course, but I don't see how this is supposed to do _you_ any good."

"It's not meant to do me good. It's meant to do _us_ good." Reaching into another coat pocket, he pulled out his own bottle and tossed it up and down. "At the moment, we have three of the map pieces between us. Only nine more. How good are you at taking other people's things, Captain?"

"I'm more comfortable with taking my own things back, really."

"Imagine those pieces are all yours, then. You'll go after the ones I tell you we need, and I'll handle the tougher ones. We'll have them all by the end of the week!" He sounded truly excited at the thought.

"And then what happens?" the captain asked, one foot still grounded in reality.

"Then it's very simple, of course. We track down the treasure, sail back to Blood Island and claim the trophy together. Don't worry, I'll handle the king's objections. You'll get what you deserve."

"And suppose I decide to turn on you and take the whole map for myself?"

"You won't," Finch answered, a glimmer in his eyes. "It's not in your nature, Captain. I can tell."

A few seconds passed before the captain answered "...What will you do to me if I say no?"

"Are you planning to say no?"

"I'm not sure yet."

"Why, I shall do nothing at all. You may go free and forget this ever happened if that's what you want. I'll even let you keep Peg-Leg's bottle." He looked at the bottle in his hand, then tossed it to the captain. "Here."

"What's this for?"

"Proof." Finch stood up. "My camp is a mile north of here. The tallest tree. If you change your mind, that is." He jumped off the branch, and then he had vanished into the inky darkness.

"Show off," the captain muttered, leaning back against the tree trunk. "He doesn't need you and he knows it."

He looked down at the bottles, letting the moonlight shine over them. The map pieces were still there, alright, or Finch was a frighteningly good copier. _Why would he give them to me if he's just going to steal them back?_

"Captain!" a voice shouted from below. There was Peg-Leg, repeatedly walking into the trunk of the tree his rival was in. "Ya can't hide from me, Captain…!" It took several more minutes for him to finally turn to the left and wander off.

Taking one more look at the bottles, the captain stuffed them in his beard. _A mile north, he said?_

* * *

It was a giant of a tree, rising neatly above all its neighbors. The trunk was broad, thick and nearly as wide as the deck of the Pirate Ship was long. Its roots stuck out of the dirt like obese brown snakes that twisted around one another. High above the captain's head, the branches spread out in a canopy of dark leaves.

"Hello?" he called out, craning his neck upwards. "Mr. Finch?"

"About time you showed up." Finch was behind him, lounging against a rock. "I've been expecting you."

"This isn't about getting help from you," the captain answered. "It's about protection. I only want to get back to my crew in one piece."

"You're welcome all the same." Walking past the captain, Finch picked up a rock and flung it at one of the lower branches. It rustled as it was hit, and a mossy, deep green vine came tumbling down from where one end had been tied. Finch caught the other end as it fell to his height. "Care for the grand tour?"


	8. Chapter 8

_Let's go on the grand tour, he said. It'll be fun, he said._ Well, perhaps not fun, but climbing up that vine seemed deceivingly simple when Finch did it. "How the devil are you managing this?" the captain said as he slid down several inches. The moss on the vine was making it slip through his hands, leaving dark green smears on his palms. When he tried to grab further up, he couldn't get his hand to stay still. "Er, a little help would be appreciated…"

Finch looked down, saw what was happening and rolled his eyes. "Just stay there, if you can."

The Pirate Captain wrapped his arms and legs around the vine, curling himself into the closest approximation of a ball, and watched Finch shimmy up the rest of the way. "How exactly is this going to AAAAGGGGHHHH!" He nearly fell off the vine as Finch began to pull it up with him on it. A few harrowing seconds later, he flopped onto the branch in a trembling mess. Slowly unfurling himself, he staggered to his feet. "I suppose that's one way to take care of these things."

"Please tell me you know how to climb branches," Finch said.

"Of course! Just need to get my bearings...how many branches are we talking about, exactly?"

Their path went up and around the side of the tree, towards the top of the trunk. At one point, the captain knocked on the bark and heard a faint echo. "Is this thing hollow?"

"To a point. A rare phenomenon."

The top of the trunk dipped down, forming a crevice, and at the center was a large hole with a rope ladder attached. The captain's gaze followed its descent, down into the cavernous, candlelit interior of the tree. "Well, that's...that's quite a thing."

Finch stepped onto the ladder and began to climb down. "That's just the beginning."

Inside, there was enough room to stand up and several feet more. Lanterns holding candlesticks lined the walls. A hammock was strung up between two poles. A large square table held stacks of scrolls and books, another held baskets of food and a third held many swords and guns. A small box of woodcarving tools had been kicked off into the shadows. The captain saw them and said nothing.

Finch immediately went to the first table. "I've analyzed the abilities of each contestant and arranged them by threat level," he explained as he brushed away the scrolls, picked up one and unrolled it on the table surface. "1 is least credible, 12 is most credible."

"Out of curiosity, where am I?"

Finch didn't even look up. "Removing ourselves from the list leaves ten. You handle the bottom five, and I'll handle the top five. How does that sound, captain?"

"Makes sense, I suppose."

"Correct." Finch handed him a smaller scroll. "I would start with Nancy. She's set up camp half a mile east of here."

"...Oh, joybiscuits."

* * *

"Did yeh ever see where that twat scurried off to, Mack?" Ugly Mug Nancy asked, more than a hint of venom in her tone.

Mackerel Moll was pulling off her boots, and several of the bushes around her rustled as the smell of her feet made the surrounding animals flee in terror. "Gone wi'out a trace, that one. Sneaky little blighter."

Moll's back was turned to Nancy, who picked up a branch and started to creep towards her. "Ah, we'll find 'im 'fore long. He'll be the second-easiest."

Moll paused, then began to reach for the knife on her belt. "An' who's the easiest, then?"

" _You."_

Moll jumped up and whirled around, pulling the knife from its sheath. She was fast, but Nancy was faster. The branch came down upon her head with a _crack,_ and she sank to the ground unconscious. Nancy plucked the bottle from her belt and held it up next to her own, watching them glow in the firelight. "Not too bad, Nan…"

"My thoughts exactly. You missed a part, though. She was the second-easiest - "

"Just grab the bottles!"

"Alright, alright!"

A dark shape with a vine tied around its waist came falling out of the trees. Nan stepped backwards and watched the captain crash to the ground in front of her. "I thought I'd tied that," the captain muttered, rolling over. He blanched as he looked up at Nancy. "Oh, hello. Suppose you'd be against a do-over, I suppose."

Nan answered with a kick to the face and ran off. "I'll take care of her," Finch said as he dropped down from the tree, landing on the captain in the process. "You head back to the base and _stay there."_

He was gone without another word, and the captain could feel blood trickling from his nose. _Sensational._

* * *

It took him half an hour to make his way back to the hideout and half an hour more for Finch to return. "I tried to warn you," he said through a nose full of bloody rags. "Do I get a second chance or shall you just toss me out right now?"

"Neither." Finch put the two bottles away, then tossed the captain a satchel. "I've a new plan for you."

Opening the satchel, the captain found a telescope and a rudimentary map of the island. "What am I supposed to do with these?"

"You'll be my scout and my bait."

"I beg your pardon?"

"They're all after you, captain. They think you'll be the quickest to take down. That's why it'll be easy for you to find them, why they'll follow you right into my traps. Do you understand?"

"Yes…"

"So you'll do it."

"I...I need a moment. Or three."

* * *

The captain knew he was probably carving out a moat around the tree, but he couldn't bring himself to care. _It's too dangerous,_ he thought as he continued to pace. _He's only using you, and he's going to get you killed. What will your lads do after that?_ He kicked at the dirt and hit a rock by mistake. "Ow!"

"Yeah, you gotta watch out for those."

He froze. "Bellamy?"

"Good to see you, too." He was sitting on one of the lower branches of the tree, smiling down at his rival. "How's the fisherman treating the worm?"

"You heard about that?"

"I hear everything." He dropped next to the captain, making him flinch. "Or I just happened to be passing by."

"I won't do it, Bellamy. I don't trust him."

"And right you are. Guy's gonna drop you like a sack of moldy hardtack, just you wait."

"I'm not _going_ to wait."

"So you're gonna drop him first."

"I'll have nothing to do with him whatsoever!"

"Shame. I like my idea better." He pulled a flask from his coat and took a swig. "I'm assuming he thinks you're stupid. Or stupider, let's put it that way."

"You're not off to a very good start."

"Point is, he's not expecting you to do something he doesn't tell you to. Like, say, leading the other guys away from him so we can take the pieces for ourselves."

The captain raised an eyebrow. "We?"

"No one said you only had to form one alliance."

"So _now_ you want to form an alliance with me?"

Bellamy put a hand on his shoulder. "Look, captain: I know that you didn't sign up for this. You'd rather be off sailing around trying to get yourself killed or whatever it is you do. Well, that makes two of us. You stick with Finch, he's gonna turn on you. You stick with only Finch, you won't have anyone to help you when he does."

"I know."

Bellamy pressed something into his hand. "Then do something about it," he said before vanishing into the forest.

When the captain opened his hand, he found Bellamy's bottle. _He's surely got plenty of his own by now._ He looked up at the tree, then down at his hand, then slipped the bottle into his beard. _You're right, Bellamy. He is going to turn on me, and so will you. Which is why I'll be ready for you both._


End file.
